


Sunglasses and an Umbrella

by AppleSeeds



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Flirting, Hotels, M/M, Meet-Cute, Speedos, Swimming Pools, Thirsty Aziraphale (Good Omens), Touching, Twitter made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds
Summary: Aziraphale can't keep his eyes off the gorgeous man who visits the hotel swimming pool at the same time every afternoon, but will he ever summon the courage to actually talk to him?(Inspired by the behind-the-scenes photo shared by Rob Wilkins)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 226
Collections: GO Meet-Cutes, Good Omens Human AUs





	Sunglasses and an Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> Right, well... this was inspired by the glorious behind-the-scenes photo Rob Wilkins shared yesterday that everyone went crazy over for a few hours before we started clowning! (https://twitter.com/terryandrob/status/1358131042658496514?s=20)
> 
> @ineffablefoxy tempted me into writing this, I hope you enjoy it! <3

Aziraphale had completed the rather splashy and inelegant two lengths of the swimming pool he required of himself to earn the rest of the afternoon relaxing in one of the sunloungers around the edge of the pool. It would appear strange otherwise, would it not, to simply sit alone here in particular, rather than anywhere else, when the scenery all around the hotel grounds was so beautiful? Of course, the scenery was the _most_ beautiful right here, in the early afternoon, when the stunningly handsome man from room 666 came for a swim.

Aziraphale had not been _stalking_ the man. He had only happened to overhear him giving his room number when he had ordered a drink at the poolside bar, requesting it be added to his tab, as Aziraphale had stood behind him unnoticed, trying to keep his eyes from periodically drifting up and down the length of the man’s delectable body. When he’d ordered his drink, Aziraphale had noticed his English accent, and had, for the briefest of moments, considered starting a conversation with him. Something along the lines of, “hello, nice to meet you, this is a lovely place, isn’t it?”, and then perhaps the man would have asked what part of England he was from, and they would have introduced themselves to each other, and perhaps even shared a delightful conversation.

Of course, that did not happen. Aziraphale’s heart raced in his chest at the mere _thought_ of speaking to the man. He was presumably here to relax and would undoubtedly prefer not to be disturbed. So Aziraphale had simply ordered his own drink, a splendid cocktail with a little umbrella in it, and then settled himself on one of the sunloungers. He had propped up his black umbrella, rather larger than the one in his drink, to cover his head, and had discreetly watched as the object of his attention, after finishing his drink, stripped off the large black towel wrapped around him and dived into the pool. He glided gracefully through the water as he swam, the water sliding over his body like... well, whatever it is water slides off.

These events had happened five days ago. Aziraphale thought himself a creature of habit, and had realised that the same could certainly be said for this man as well. He came to the pool at the same time each day, completed thirty lengths (Aziraphale always counted), and then settled himself onto his own sunlounger. Much to Aziraphale’s delight, with the exception of that first day, said sunlounger was the one directly to the left of the one preferred by Aziraphale himself, although he had still not yet summoned the courage to speak to the man. After so much time had passed, Aziraphale realised it would be strange to strike up a conversation now. Sadly, it seemed that he had missed his chance. Still, that did not stop Aziraphale from discreetly glancing to the side whenever he thought he could get away with it, while he hid behind his sunglasses and pretended to read the book he had brought with him.

The man always wore a tiny pair of ridiculously tight black Speedos, which left almost nothing to the imagination and caused Aziraphale’s cheeks to burn in a manner which he hoped, if anyone were to notice, could be dismissed as simply an effect of the hot sun beating down on his fair skin. Aziraphale, of course, covered up as soon as he left the pool, wearing a loose-fitting white linen shirt to cover his shoulders, with a large fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist to cover his (long, loose, very un-Speedo-like) tartan swimming shorts and most of his legs as well. In addition, he covered himself with a generous layer of SPF50 sunscreen, and affixed a protective strip across his nose where he was most liable to burn. Still, all of this only served to protect him from the fierce ultraviolet rays of the sun, it could not protect him from the effects of the _heat_ , and it was certainly _very_ hot, and about to get even hotter.

As always, the man, the very picture of temptation incarnate, climbed elegantly out of the pool and approached the sunlounger, his long, red curls dripping and darkened by the water. And, just as on every other day this week, Aziraphale tried not to let his gaze linger on any part of the man’s body as he approached, particularly nowhere in the Speedo region. The man didn’t make it easy. He certainly liked to take his time, stretching his arms above his head for some unfathomable reason, accentuating the tautness of his body, before roughly drying first his hair and then his chest with the towel, and ultimately wrapping it around his waist before flopping down onto the sunlounger. He sprawled out all over it, one arm hooked over the back and one leg dangling off the side, and slid a pair of designer sunglasses over his eyes. Aziraphale occasionally caught a glimpse of his own reflection in those lenses, tinted with a gold shimmer.

Aziraphale smiled politely in his direction, having decided on the third day that it would be rude to offer no acknowledgement of his presence given that they had been spending their afternoons lying next to each other for several days by then. The man tilted his chin up in recognition, and then Aziraphale returned his attention to his book, or at least, gave the outward appearance of doing so.

“Oh, shit!” the man muttered under his breath. Aziraphale’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses and he turned his head to face him, pushing the umbrella out of the way slightly to get a better view.

“Is anything the matter?” Aziraphale asked, making an effort to sound exceptionally English (it did not require much effort), hoping his earlier strategy of this being a conversation starter might be useful.

“Um... yeah, it’s fine, I’ve just run out of sunscreen. It’ll be fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb your reading.”

“Good heavens, I do hope you’re not serious! It won’t be fine! You’ll burn in no time in this heat!”

“Mrrnyeah, probably.”

“Well, there’s no need for that! Here, you can use mine,” Aziraphale offered, a friendly bounce in his voice. He leaned over the edge of the sunlounger to pick up his bottle of factor 50 and held it out, the man’s long, slender fingers brushing against Aziraphale’s as he took it from him, eliciting a heat shiver that made Aziraphale’s skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Thanks, ‘ppreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear.”

The man licked his lips and a grin spread over his face.

“I’m Crowley, by the way.”

“Aziraphale. Hello. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“So, another Brit escaping the damp dreariness of the English autumn, eh?”

“You could put it like that. It is a bit damp.”

“Understatement of the century,” Crowley chuckled, flicking open the cap on the bottle of sunscreen and squirting a generous amount onto his palm. “You here alone?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah.” Crowley began slathering the sunscreen over his arms, and since his attention was entirely focused on his task, Aziraphale did not see the harm in watching. Besides, they were having a conversation. It would have been _rude_ not to look at him.

“How come you have an umbrella? No one else has an umbrella. Bit of an oversight if you ask me.”

“I brought an umbrella with me from home. It is delightfully refreshing to be using it to shelter from the sun rather than the rain.”

“Mm, yeah. Didn’t think of that. Wouldn’t have occurred to me to pack an umbrella for a place like this.”

“Well, perhaps we could share it,” Aziraphale suggested.

“Are you a doctor? You seem awfully concerned about my wellbeing.” Crowley’s voice was light, almost teasing, and he hadn’t stopped smiling since Aziraphale had given him the bottle of sunscreen, making him appear even more handsome. Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Ah, no. Actually I run a bookshop.”

“Oh, nice.”

“And you?”

“I’m an ethical hacker.”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds exciting.”

“Nyeah, it’s all right. I hack into companies’ systems so they can identify their weak points; they just say get in there and make some trouble.”

By now, beneath Aziraphale’s unwavering scrutiny, Crowley had finished applying the cream to his chest and arms, and was twisting around awkwardly to reach his back.

“Would you like some help?” Aziraphale offered, his mouth operating independently of his brain. He wished he could see Crowley’s eyes behind his sunglasses, rather than his own flustered reflection, but he did notice the way the corners of Crowley’s lips twitched, broadening his smile.

“ _Absolutely_. Thanks.”

Aziraphale flushed even more at Crowley’s enthusiastic acceptance of his offer. He sat up on the sunlounger, his heart fluttering when the bottle of sunscreen switched hands once again.

“How do you want me?” Crowley asked, his eyebrow arching up above his sunglasses.

“Oh... ah, perhaps over here? In front of me?”

“Works for me.”

Aziraphale sat back on his sunlounger and planted his feet on either side of it, spreading his legs and making room for Crowley between them. Oh dear, thinking of it like _that_ wasn’t very helpful at all. At least Crowley would have his back to him and wouldn’t notice the way Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed even more, and how his shoulders began to rise and fall more rapidly with each of his shallow breaths.

Crowley crossed the small space between them and settled himself in front of Aziraphale, lifting his long legs up onto the sunlounger and shuffling back further than was really necessary. Aziraphale’s breath hitched and his heart began beating faster as Crowley reached back and swept his hair out of the way, drawing it forward to expose his neck. Aziraphale squeezed some of the sunscreen onto his palm, which he then hovered over Crowley’s shoulder for a second before summoning the courage to actually touch him. Aziraphale took a deep breath and tentatively began to cover Crowley’s neck, shoulders and back with sunscreen, trying not to focus on how warm and smooth his skin was, or the flex of his muscles beneath his fingers as Crowley shifted slightly, bringing the two of them even closer.

“You’re very gentle.”

“Oh... I’m sorry. Is this all right?”

“’M not complaining. Feels good.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale responded weakly, the heat now penetrating to his core, his insides clenching tightly. Was this actually happening?

“Sorry, is that ok?”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale removed his hands from Crowley’s back and then trailed his fingertips faintly down his spine. Crowley hunched forwards and drew in a shuddering breath.

“Hnnn.... _angel_.”

“Angel?”

“Oh... um... yeah, sorry. S’just... what I’ve been calling you. In my head. Sorry. You’re just... yeah.”

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale smiled to himself. Crowley had been _thinking_ about him. In a rather favourable light if the endearment he had chosen was anything to go by. Aziraphale licked his lips and resumed his task, making sure that every inch of Crowley’s back was covered with an adequate layer of sunscreen, while Crowley rolled his neck and hummed with satisfaction, making Aziraphale feel like he might spontaneously combust at any moment.

Aziraphale wondered what would happen next. Would Crowley just return to his own sunlounger and then they would lie together in silence as they had every other day this week?

“Right, well that’s all done for you,” he murmured softly, resting his palms gently on Crowley’s shoulder blades for a moment.

“Great, thanks.” Crowley swivelled around on the sunlounger, sitting on the edge of it with his feet on the ground, his thigh now pressed up against Aziraphale’s. “Maybe next time you’ll let me do you.”

“I would have no objections,” Aziraphale said quietly, dipping his head and adjusting the collar of his shirt. The way Crowley’s face twitched slightly then seemed to suggest he might have _winked_ at Aziraphale, but there really was no way to be sure with those big golden sunglasses in the way.

“Could I tempt you to go for a walk with me? Maybe just up to the wall, where it’s quieter?”

“Temptation accomplished,” Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley grabbed the enormous black bath towel he’d had draped over his sunlounger and wrapped it around the length of his body like a long black robe. His hair had already started to dry a little in the hot sun, forming tighter curls, which billowed in the gentle breeze.

Aziraphale picked up his umbrella and held it over his head as they walked together to the wall overlooking the sand, which contrasted sharply with the luscious planting in the gardens within the hotel’s boundaries.

“Look, I’d really like to get to know you better and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot, so I think I should be honest,” Crowley said, looking out towards the sand rather than at Aziraphale.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I... I didn’t actually run out of sunscreen. Just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley turned to him and grinned.

“So why a black umbrella? It doesn’t seem to fit your aesthetic. It’s more the kind of thing you’d expect to see me with.”

“Oh... well, this isn’t the umbrella I brought with me, you see. It was much bigger, and it had a lovely tartan pattern on it.”

“Like your swim shorts,” Crowley observed, raising his eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

“What happened to it? Lost it already have you?”

“I gave it away.”

“You what?”

“I gave it away! There was a family trying to shelter from the sun under this tiny umbrella and they couldn’t all fit under it, and the mother was _expecting_ and I didn’t want her to suffer in this terrible heat! So I... well, I traded with them for this one.”

“You really _are_ an angel. Well, I think the black suits you, it’s like you’ve got a bit of a dark streak, maybe a naughty side,” Crowley drawled.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Well, yes, possibly. I suppose that’s something you’ll just have to find out now, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale lifted the umbrella higher and cocked his head, beckoning Crowley to come closer. Crowley shuffled towards him, their arms brushing together as he joined Aziraphale under the shelter of the umbrella. There was rain forecast for tomorrow, but Aziraphale had a feeling it wouldn’t matter, that the rest of his holiday was going to be very enjoyable indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! <3
> 
> I might not post anything for a little while (who knows though, let's be honest!) as I'm working on a multichapter fic that's going to take me ages - it has an actual plot and everything! ;-)


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